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Post by NLV Plot on Sept 16, 2007 15:40:35 GMT -8
The sky broke forth with a splash of orange and brown. Looking out beyond the meadows and toward the western mountain ranges, Arios reflected quietly over a glass of dark ale. This time was his favorite, a quiet moment in the morn where he could rise before his valets and take in the surroundings. When he could sneak into his private cellar and fill an old mug, and drink it. Taking another sip, he wondered – a fire. A fire could make the sky look as such. A sweet smoke was hidden in the air, and the king could sense this in his nostrils.
Before long his time was up, and the day’s requirements were upon him. On this day he expected a visit from his council. Within a few minutes of his arriving to his throne room, however, no schedule would be saved by today’s activities.
A herald, and a message, was upon him.
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Post by NLV Plot on Sept 16, 2007 15:41:16 GMT -8
After reading through the official parchments, marked with the seals of the kingdom of Hightower, a grim look replaced a once jovial king’s smile. A series of actions took place rather quickly, and the King’s Council was beckoned to enter his chambers, ahead of schedule. Many of those well-dressed councilors took their customary positions around a long, elegant mahogany table, appointed with high back chairs that have seen over 500 years of Akliceium history.
The servants placing refreshments in the room could hear whispers and murmurs among the council, and they were hurried out of the room faster than usual. It was clear there was business to be carried out. The large iron doors shut with a low rumble carried through the near halls, and an eerie silence followed.
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Post by NLV Plot on Sept 16, 2007 15:41:43 GMT -8
A spirited animal he was, pride of the Regimental Stables. Laterium and his rider escaped the training grounds and made fast for the southern end of the capital city. Before long the distinctive sounds of horseshoe iron and polished stone colliding like thunderheads could be heard by the city dwellers. The sound raced toward renown Soldrien landmarks, and stopped quickly before their gates.
Familiar faces greet each other, and the 1st Regimental Guardsman made his way quickly into the household, past a gathering of horses, carriage, and servants gathered by the gates. He was taken without hesitation to the inner courtyard, where he respectfully paused before the proceedings.
Many had come on this day, to honor the lost. Chairs were set in a circular setting around a beautifully constructed fountain, fresh with polish and mortar. The speaker was concluding the service, and addressing a portrait of a man named Michael Ritten. Solemn faces filled the courtyard, and with some final words, the gathering began to stand. With this movement the guardsman moved through the aisles, and addressed the speaker directly.
“Your Grace, his majesty requires your presence, and with all due haste.”
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Post by NLV Plot on Sept 16, 2007 15:42:10 GMT -8
It was an unusual quiet in the King’s household. Something was amiss but it wasn’t quite clear. Rumor has it the Duke had been summoned to the Council meeting this morning, which was unusual. However, it could be that the fall harvest was short and a food shortage was looming. That was the rumor in any event.
When his Grace arrived it was in usual form, not a lot of pomp to accompany the circumstance. 2nd and 1st Regimental guard walked with their commander, and made their way to the council chambers. Without announcement the doors were opened, the Duke entered, and the doors were closed. The guards remained outside the room, and the silence carried throughout the hallways resumed.
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Post by NLV Plot on Sept 16, 2007 15:42:35 GMT -8
Duke Ginar Polinar Deralba was familiar with all those present, and he properly showed respect to those seated at the table. He awaited acknowledgement from his Majesty, who rose from his chair shortly after he arrived. He took a rolled parchment from the table and walked outside onto a terrace. The Duke followed, and when they both stepped together atop the mosaic pottery tiles, the King handed his Duke the parchment.
After several moments, the Duke silently refolded the parchment, and the two talked privately for the better part of an hour.
Scribes were called into the chambers, and the Duke created a parchment of his own. Arios continued to stare out from the terrace, into the sky now swirling with black smoke and highlighted by the sun creating colors of amber and red. The king took a look into his mug, and the dark ale that inhabited it.
“There is a wildfire in the mountains, I’m sure of it now.”
Arios returned to the table, read over the completed parchment, and signed it.
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Post by NLV Plot on Sept 16, 2007 15:42:56 GMT -8
As the Duke departed, he made his way into the city, and handled this errand personally. He sent out riders, and missives to order the finding of the man. Nothing had reached his ears and he himself had not received any word as to his return. It was assumed he was in hiding, but before he would post such a d**ning parchment, he wanted to ensure that there was no attempt to contact him.
<*>
Several days had passed, and no word. The Duke mulled his option, but regardless it seemed clear. With no word and no more information to go on, his choice was made for him.
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Post by NLV Plot on Sept 16, 2007 15:43:24 GMT -8
Ginar left the chambers and made his way to the guild. Scribes were ordered to make haste with the transcriptions, and before long several copies were created. Each made its way to a messenger and was whisked off: to be delivered and posted, as was protocol.
The Duke opted to walk back to his residence, and reflected upon the goings on. He was naturally saddened by the actions taken, but it was clear the circumstances indicated such. Only time could pass now.
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